


Dribble Drabbles

by Aragem



Series: Hope, Faith, and Love [4]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-25
Updated: 2018-10-13
Packaged: 2019-07-02 04:16:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 10,955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15788778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aragem/pseuds/Aragem
Summary: Just a series of drabbles that are non-canon or canon to For We May Hope.  Mostly fluff pieces.





	1. Chapter 1

“These look like pepper, but they’re sweet like sugar.” 

Hunk took a pinch from the open container she held and sprinkle some on his tongue. He took a moment to roll the taste in his mouth and noted. “It has a bit of a spice to it. We could use it to spice hot tea. Ooh, I’m thinking Chai tea.”

“I’ve never had Chai tea. What is it like?” She set the container down on the table and reached for another shaker. 

“It’s thick and has a cinnamony taste,” Hunk considered. “It tastes great with muffins and scones. Yeah, I could use some muffins and scones. Do we have any berries?”

“Let me see,” Bridget said as she began looking around the kitchen. She checked the fridge, the freezer, and the cabinets, but turned up empty-handed. “How about we use fruit? Like bananas or apple?”

Hunk’s eyes went wide in inspiration. “I have just the thing.” 

She stepped aside as he zipped past her to a cabinet she had left alone as it carried alien food she didn’t recognize. Her rule of thumb when it came to alien food was if she didn’t know what it was or never tried it before, she left it well enough alone. He rummaged through it, pushing aside several containers and odd looking boxes. Then he found what he was looking for and lowered a box onto the counter. It was a self-refrigerating box that hissed as he lifted the lid. The cold air obscured her view of the contents until Hunk lifted out what resembled a green peach.

Soft fuzz clung to the peeling and the stem was dark with two blue leaves sprouting at the base. With a knife, Hunk deftly sliced a wedge, revealing a soft glossy interior. He held it out to Bridget, “Try it.”

Experience with alien food had taught caution when it came to new food. She trusted Hunk in that the fruit was safe and had an appealing taste, but it never tasted as she would have expected. It was jarring to sink your teeth into an apple and it tastes like chicken or beef. Nibbling the edge, rich cinnamon flavor with a hint of caramel or butterscotch aftertaste. 

Enjoying the flavor, she devoured the rest of the wedge. “This would do nicely. What is it?”

“It’s Pamanda fruit,” Hunk said as he took the rest of the fruit over to the cooking area. “The Arusians gave them as a gift. I almost forgot all about them.”

“We could caramelize these and make little cakes instead. Like lemon cakes.”

Hunk’s thick brows jumped up. “Yeah! With a little syrup drizzle.”

“And could add a little dollop of cream on top!”

“I like how you think!”

Hunk expertly sliced the Pamanda fruit while Bridget got the water hot and added sugar. She had never met a man so enthralled with cooking. No, it wasn’t that he was so enthralled with it, it was that he had it down to an art. He knew what tasted well together and what didn’t. Without consulting a recipe, he could throw together spices and herbs and perfectly season any meal. It was even more astounding that he was able to manage it with such exotic food.

If Dad had tried some of his cooking, he would have made him top chef in one of his finest restaurants. A finger of pain touched her heart whenever she thought of Dad. She wished he was with them now so she watch his reaction when he tried the alien food. Especially the cakes she and Hunk were baking.

They turned out perfect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follow me on Tumblr either my muse RP blog: rebelcourtesan  
> Or on my writing blog: gapspace


	2. Beauty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shiro's thought of Keith's changes.

When did it happened? When did he stop being the scruffy rebellious kid who stared out the window apathetic towards anything but his own failings? Where did that kid go? Who broke flight formation to show off his superior piloting skills in front of his superiors and classmates? 

Before him stood a young man confident, but still insecure. The chip on his shoulder was gone and now he timidly reached out to others and lead them without doubt or hesitation. He went from questioning himself to openly accepting his half-Galra blood.

The marking on his cheek was an eye catching blemish that served to draw attention to the delicate, but firm cheek bones and soulful eyes the shade of the sky at sunrise. He was long of bone and slim like a colt, but powerful and fast with the ferocity of a striking snake. The weeks - for him it was two years - he had gone, his slim body strengthen his muscles, his raven hair thicker almost a bit longer than he usually wore it. 

It was awkward to notice these things and to feel like this. Especially when he first met Keith when he was a pre-teen, a boy. Time had past and all boys grow into young men at one point. It just crept up on him without him noticing. His clone noticed at first sight. Was this were these feelings came from? 

It would make sense as Haggar was slowly taking more and more control of Kuron by the time Keith returned from his sojourn with the Blades. His instincts were more primal; siding with Lotor and shouting when his leadership was question. There had been desire when Keith returned and it erupted into menace once he was activated. Yet. There had been a moment. A small, almost inconsequential moment, when desire almost broke the programming. No, calling it desire wasn’t right. It was something else, affection? Actual love? 

It was still there. He felt it in his chest whenever the youth was close. Did it now originate from him or was it the lingering piece of the clone’s essence making itself known? He would need time to find out and what then? Tell Keith the clone had a developed a crush on him in his last hours or that perhaps after years of mentorship his brotherly loved had turned into something more? 

Adam. Shiro knew he had loved Adam and still do. He had not seen his lover for years and finding he had passed before they had a chance to reconcile was a blow. Could he be so willing to move on when he still must grieve for Adam?

It was too many questions to ask and not enough answers for him to decide anything. For now, he would keep his feelings to himself until the war is finally over. Until then, he would simply look on at the beautiful Keith and hide his emotions under the guise of leadership and brotherhood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follow me on Tumblr either my muse RP blog: rebelcourtesan  
> Or on my writing blog: gapspace


	3. Krolia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Krolia's internal thoughts and memories upon being reunited with Keith.

I’ve missed so much. 

When she last saw him, she could hold him in her hands. He had been so small and soft. When she first laid eyes on Keith, she knew him to be her son even before she smelled him. He had grown so much and become so strong. It didn’t surprise her that had become a warrior. He was his mother’s son after all.

His father had been ex-military who became a firefighter and rescuer. Maybe that's where Keith got the compassion he tried to hide behind dedication to the mission. The memories and flashbacks came unbidden from the quantum abyss. Keith’s father perished in a fire in the line of duty. He would never leave anyone behind. 

He was the sort of man who thought nothing of prying open an alien spacecraft to rescue the occupant inside. He took her back to his farmhouse and cared for her until she recovered. She had tried to return to space, salvaging what remained of her ship in his barn. He helped when he could, but it wasn't much. His experience with machines was his truck and tractor. Instead, he scavenged what could be useful from the junkyard. Most of all, he kept her secret from his people. 

By the time she realized it was impossible to return to space, she didn’t want to leave. For the first time in her life, she had found peace. On the farm, there had been no expectations, no rigorous demands, nor dangers. She could relax, sleep well, and just be herself. She had fallen in love; something she never had imagines happening with anyone, much with less a primitive. He was like a Galra, but without the corruption. Brave, strong, honorable, but also kind, gentle, and loving. He asked for very little from her and gave her so much. They had been two lonely souls that had found themselves in the other. 

When Keith was conceived, it had been worrisome. She had never imagined herself ever being a mother. She understood the basic care of Galra kits and cubs, but of human babies, she knew nothing. Especially in a half-breed child. Some of the old prejudices rear their ugly heads but were dashed away by his devotion to their unborn child. He wanted to break their silence, have her see a doctor, someone they could trust, but she declined. Labor and childbirth for Galra aren’t as devastating as it is for humans. Barring any complications, she could birth without medical aid.

Within six months, Keith came into their lives and she had known threw happiness for a few months more. Then she left to protect them both.

“I’m sorry, Keith,” she whispered to the sleeping youth. He was curled on his side, his back to the fire, the slight rise of his side revealed he was in a deep sleep. “If I had known your father wouldn’t always be there . . .I would have tried to come back so you wouldn’t be alone. It must have been so hard to be alone.”

If she did go back would she would risk staying on Earth or brought Keith with to the Blades? How would she have explained to a frightened boy of who she was to him? Was it destiny? Her arriving on Earth, falling in love and having a child so that child could become a Paladin all apart of a plan? 

As her lover as once said, only hindsight is 20/20. What had happened was the past now. She was with her son now for as long as it takes for them reach the source of the strange quintessence. 

“Good night, Keith, my son.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follow me on Tumblr either my muse RP blog: rebelcourtesan  
> Or on my writing blog: gapspace


	4. Lance/Bridget

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance and Bridget find themselves in a dangerous situation.

Laser shots peppered the rock feet above their heads. They ducked their heads from the shower of dust and rock. Lance swung around the edge of cover and popped off a few shots before ducking as his challenge was answered with an array of laser bolts. 

“Shit!” Lance yelped as bolt seared the upper arm of his armor. The white material was scorched black and smoked. “I felt that!”

Bridget heft her bow, an energy arrow charging at her fingertips. “Did you see Shiro?”

“No, all I saw was Galra and their guns,” Lance muttered. As it to grant weight to his statement, another torrent of shots flared over their heads. “I can’t get through to the Castle.”

“Probably a jammer,” Bridget said glancing over the edge of the rock, careful not to reveal enough of herself to pose as a tempting target. “They have to raise their heads to shoot us too. Can you get them if I draw their fire?”

“Yeah, sure - waitaminute! You can’t go out there!” 

“Then what? Wait here until they get tired of shooting at us?” Bridget shuffled onto her feet. “Shiro’s out there with an injured Keith! You can’t call the Castle of Lions, but I can if I can get out of range of the jammers!”

“They’ll turn you into swiss cheese!” Lance blurted catching her arm. 

“Then make sure they don’t!” Bridget said heatedly. “I’m going!”

She nocked an arrow and murmured a prayer to Saint Barbara. By the time she finished, she realized that Lance had chimed in. “You’re Catholic too?”

Lance nodded, “Yeah, baptized when I was in diapers and confirmed at fourteen. Not as devout as Mom would like. Too many good looking girls out there.”

It was stunning to find she had something in common with whom she first perceived as a flirty goofball. A finger of guilt poked her chest for judging someone she barely knew. She clasped Lance on the unscorched arm. “We should talk more if we survive this.”

“Yeah, we ought to,” Lance said with none of the flirtatious overtures when they first met. 

“Well, here goes,” Bridget said moments before she launched from around cover and let loose an arrow at the soldiers across the gulf. 

Her arrow lodged itself through the visor of a sentry, stunning them momentarily. She was able to get halfway down the hill when they returned with a torrent of blasts. She rolled to the side and tumbled down the rest of the way, springing to her feet once she reached leveled ground. Several shots ring out above her head. Several soldiers ducking behind their cover, but two weren’t quick enough. 

She dashed westward, nocking an arrow as she went. That should give Lance some breathing room at least. Checking her commlink, it kept giving her a no signal message until she cleared the building. The Green and Yellow Lions soared overhead dealing with drones and warships. 

“Bridget to Castle of Lions, this is Bridget!” She crowed into the commlink. 

“Bridget, where have you been?” Coran’s voice crackled over the connection. “Shiro and Keith are already back in the Castle. We’ve been looking for you and Lance!”

“Oh, shite,” she moaned. The rescue party was now the ones needing rescue. “Lance is pinned down. I’m going back for him.”

“Hurry. A fleet is inbound for this sector. We’re going to need Voltron.”

Bridget disconnected and ran through the rubbles along a street webbed with cracks. No matter how skilled Lance was with a hi-power rifle, she would be shot to death the second she appeared. There had to be another way in. And sure enough, there was a window two stories up she could use. 

She held up her bow, a curved piece of metal with a balanced grip and drew the string to her cheek. A quintessence arrow molded from her fingertips to the rest. Draw a breath, she concentrated and let it loose. The arrow zipped up at an angle and hit its mark just inches above the top of the window. She still held the end of the quintessence between her fingers. Looking through it obscured the vision like looking through water. Focusing, the quintessence tightened and became visible in a light green rope. Wrapping it around her wrist, she set one foot on the wall and then the other and began walking her way up, reabsorbing the quintessence into her hand as she went. 

It took several minutes to reach the window. During the climb, she heard the shots continuing inside and she imagined Lance’s body being ripped apart by laser bolts. No, if they were still shooting, they hadn’t killed him yet. She peered through the window and saw the sentries and Galra ducking behind cover. 

She eased herself up onto the edge, careful not to make one sound. She prayed that Lance had noticed her because she was going to need his help to survive the next ten seconds. Drawing a slow breath, she let the calm flow over her as she focused, nocking an arrow. 

The first arrow took out the leader and she had time enough to take out another before they noticed her. She was nocking another arrow when they raised their guns. The next instant later, a blue bolt took out a third from behind and there was chaos. She fired into them over and over and Lance took any that came into his field of vision. It lasted only five seconds, but they were intense and by the time it was over, her heart was pounding in her throat. The Galra soldiers were dead and the sentries were destroyed.

She dropped onto the floor as Lance was coming across the gap to meet her. He pumped a fist in the air while shouldering his rifle. “That’s how the sharpshooting team does it!”

She pushed a loose tendril of hair from her face and went down to meet him. “Shiro and Keith are safe, but they need you out there to form Voltron. Go ahead without me, I’ll catch up later.”

“Whoa, wait, what are you gonna ?” Lance’s beaming grin faded.

“There are refugees in the north district.” She shouldered her bow and met his eyes, determination fierce in hers. “They need someone to lead them somewhere safe and you’re needed with the Team. Don’t worry, I can do this myself.”

“Okay, stay in touch though. We’ll let you know when the fighting is over.”

“May God be with you, Lance.”

“You too, Bridget.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follow me on Tumblr either my muse RP blog: rebelcourtesan  
> Or on my writing blog: gapspace


	5. Shiro/Bridget

“How long will they let us meet like this?”

He was laying across the bed, marveling at how soft and comfortable. It may have been a normal mattress with no special features, but after years of sleeping on a hard cot, a patch of grass would feel like a cloud.

She was sitting beside, entertained by his reaction to the bed. “I don’t know. It’ll continue as long as they believe it pleases the Emperor.” Her shoes were on the floor and stocking covered legs were folded beneath her. She leaned over his chest eyeing a cast-like bandage wrapped around his shoulder. “How bad is it?”

“I’m so used to pain I don’t notice it anymore,” Shiro joked and winced when he saw Bridget’s face fall. “No, seriously, it doesn’t hurt anymore. They gave me plenty of painkillers for it.”

“Well, they must want you to enjoy yourself with me they were willing to go that far.” Just like himself, she made morbid jokes about their situation. He didn’t like it when she did that any more than she when he did it. Following the line of thought, she added, “You know back during the Roman Empire gladiators spent the night with slave girls as a reward.”

“Oh?” he feigned interest and not liking this topic at all.

“Aye,” she said, her Irish accent becoming a bit thicker in her mirth. “Yet, it was also for breeding purposes. So they can get stronger slaves and gladiators.”

There was a thick silence that followed as the implication fell on them. Bridget’s face went white and Shiro’s mouth tightened into a grim line. Was it possible that their meetings had an ulterior motive behind them? They both thought the same thing, though with different means of accomplishing it.

_I’ll castrate myself before I bring a child into this hell._

_I’ll claw out my own womb before the Galra_ take _another child from me._

Bridget touched a spot high in her arm. “If they wanted ‘that’ then they would have removed my birth control implant. It’s still there and we’re not doing anything . . .”

“Yeah,” Shiro said not feel much relieved. The thought of them being bred like a prize stallion and broodmare unnerved him. After everything he seen in the slave pits and the arena, he wouldn’t put it past the Galra to breed them like livestock.

Bridget was crestfallen, regretful that she had unintentionally made a pleasant moment uncomfortable. She laid down beside him, her legs hanging off the edge of the bed next to his. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“It’s alright,” Shiro said wanting to leave the thought behind them. He diverted them into a game they liked to play. “When I get home, I’m going to fly my hoverbike until it runs out of gas.”

It was a game they took pleasure in, imagining what they would do if they ever returned to Earth. It was bittersweet, both joyful and depressing game.

Bridget gave him a poignant gaze and replied, “I’ll go into any clothing store and try on everything they have. Whether it’s gaudy or tacky.”

Shiro snorted and imagined Bridget in a brazenly bright outfit from different styles and outfits. “I’m going to take a whole tube of toothpaste - a large one - and squeeze the whole thing out in the sink.”

“Ewwww, why!?” she cried.

“I don’t know. It’s something I always wanted to do as a kid.”

“Okay, in that case, I want to pour an entire container of bubble bath under running water and take a bath in it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follow me on Tumblr either my muse RP blog: rebelcourtesan  
> Or on my writing blog: gapspace


	6. Party - Lotor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lotor wards off the advances of an alien princess while making plans.

The wine carried a strong bitter aftertaste he didn’t favor, but he accepted a second flute of wine from a servant anyway. Better to keep up appearances and pretend he was enjoying himself for a few hours more. If so only to appease the hosts who worked so hard to throw this ball to impress the exiled prince of a powerful Empire. 

Narti and Acxa stood nearby watchful for any potential danger, but he did not fear any reprisals for his presence. They were more for show than actual protection. The people of this planet saw his arrival as a hand of cooperation from the Empire and seek to prove their contribution by celebrating him. How little they understood the Galra or his role within the Empire, he thought as he took a small pull from the flute. 

Among the Galra, he was called the Emperor’s Shame and sometimes they didn’t bother to wait until he was out of hearing before starting their vile whispers. He knew that despite the glitter and confetti were thrown before him, the simpering sycophants have little more affection for him than his own people, but they’ll keep up the appearance of adulation and respect for as long as they believe it would keep the Empire from baying at their doors.

He felt her eyes on him before he saw her. She was standing by the indoor fountain carved of marble with streaks of crystal. Her skin was alabaster white the perfect shade her kind prided itself on. Bright blue eyes glowed like polished sapphires and long silver earrings danced with each slight movement of her head. She approached him, gossamer gown brushing the white floor with barely a whisper. Her Flowering Ball was last week, which marked her of marriageable age. She was beautiful, he wouldn’t deny that, but despite becoming a woman last week, to him she was still a child. 

Since she was the youngest daughter of this planet’s Regent, suitors crept around her likes flies on dung. However, it seems she already has a potential mate in mind. “Prince Lotor,” she purred. “You haven’t responded to my invitation to the play.” Her cherub’s lowered in a churlish pout that she thought made her look desirable. It only made her look insipid and childish.

He bowed with a slight bend of the back. If she was the Heir, he would have bowed lower at the hips. The people of this planet had strict protocol when it came to addressing those of rank and titles and they were quite impressed when he made not one mistake with their etiquette. “Princess Janelle, it is an honor.” 

She maintained her petty pout, almost flicking him with her fan, “You did receive my invitation? Yes?”

“I have, but alas, I shall not be able to attend. My duty to my people calls me to other matters. Perhaps another night.”

“But you must come!” she cried taking his arm, her white-gloved hand stroking the black wristguard of his suit. “It’s the last night they’ll perform Brisanna.”

For her to so casually take his arm spoke volumes of her affection for him. Daughters of the Regent were not to have any public physical contact with males not yet accepted as suitors by His Grace. Already they were getting a lot of attention from the partiers and foul glares from potential suitors who sought to join the Royal Family. 

“I am unfamiliar with the Brisanna,” Lotor said, politely plucking a flute of wine from a passing caterer and handing it to her. 

She elegantly held the crystal stem but was more interested in him than refreshments. “It only the most romantic story in my people’s history,” she said, her eyes bright with excitement. “I’ve read it so many times and it’s my favorite play! It’s about Princess Brisanna who falls in love with a handsome knight . . .”

Every culture had some sort of grand tale of forbidden romance between two star-crossed. There had been countless versions of the same stories told through the ages throughout the Universe. Lotor artfully appeared interested in her tale, even raising his brows in surprised by the predictable ending. From the corner of his eye, he saw Axca give the girl an amused look but maintained her bodyguard stance. 

The Princess slid her hand down his forearm and took his hand in hers. “Please, promise that you’ll come, please!”

All her life, every whim, and desire were fulfilled. From what she ate, her clothing, and every whim was provided before she had to bat an eye or shed an angry tear. Now she wanted something that couldn’t so easily be given, but she was determined to win it for herself anyway.

“I will consult my schedule, but I can make no promises, my dear,” Lotor said with regret lining his words.

The Princess’s eyes widen, taken aback by the declination. “Oh, but . . .oh, well, I can have the trope put on a private performance for us.”

“You only have to tell me the day and time, my lady,” Lotor said bending over her hand and kissed the knuckles. 

Her cheeks turned a bright pink which glowed hotly on her white face. “I shall send a messenger once the preparations are finished.”

“I await with bated breath,” Lotor said quite sincerely. 

With a small curtsey, Princess Janelle bid him a farewell and returned to the ball. As much as she would have liked, they couldn’t dance as it wouldn’t be proper etiquette for a princess to dance with someone not yet approved as a suitor. Lotor let the facade fade as he drank more wine. 

Acxa stepped forward ready to take the empty wine glass from his hand. “That one tried to sneak into the apartments last night.”

Lotor sighed, his yellow eyes watching the dance. Sequins glittered from gowns and suit of silk almost glowed under the ballroom light globes. Galra weren’t much for balls and dancing, but Alteans were the ones who held the grandest celebrations and parties that would have put this to shame. “She has the aspiration of seducing me so I would pledge her father to court her.”

Acxa’s lip curled derisively. “If she had things her way, she’d skip the courtship and go straight to the marriage.”

An uneasy smile spread across his lips. “I’m sure her father would approve the match if it assured him an alliance with the Empire. Little does he understand the Galra do not form alliances. Is everything in place?”

“Yes, sir. Enzor said the nobles from the Eastern Lands are willing to join the coup.”

Lotor nodded, pleased and unsurprised. The lords had not been easy to win over. They came from generations that had served the Regent’s Family for centuries. However, the Lord Regent had fallen out of favor with nobility for increased taxation of the wealthy families and pledging more rights for the commoners such as land ownership and voting privileges. Lotor had provided them with a means to remove the monarch without losing land or titles all the while gaining more power and influence within the courts. 

“What of Tosely?” Lotor spied Princess Janelle gliding in a waltz with her brother in law. He looked away before she would catch his gaze. 

“He’s in, but since his support is crucial to the plan, he wants more influence within the Capital.” 

Lotor pondered this for only a moment before a thin smile touched his lips. “Tell him that once the Regent is forced to abdicate, his son and son-in-law will be persuaded to relinquish their claim to the throne. Then whoever weds Princess Janelle will be the next Regent.”

Acxa was quiet for a moment, her lips slightly pursed. Displeasure rippled through her, but she maintained a professional stance as his sentinel. She, like himself, looked quite out of place wearing armor among the silks and satins with their dark coloring standing out in stark contrast with the shades of whites and greys. Lotor returned a nod when he caught the eye of a nobleman’s son who was among the first to meet with the exiled prince in secret.

“Something on your mind, Acxa,” Lotor chided gently. 

“Lord Tosely is old enough to be her grandfather,” she said. 

“True,” Lotor said with a slight bob of his head, “But she’ll become queen of this planet. An ambition she was not allowed being born the youngest. Since Lord Tosely is so old, she will not have to endure his presence long and will be free to live out her life in comfort as the Queen Regent . . . who has an affection for me.”

Acxa’s brows rose as she regarded the prince impressed and a bit unnerved. Did he come up with this plan just now when he heard of Lord Tosely’s demands? Or had this been part of a bigger scheme since he joined the court? Lotor could come up with contingency plans two or three steps ahead for every potential backfire or failure. It was how he survived as a half-breed in Zarkon’s court where he had made mistakes, but they were mistakes he had learned much.

“I shall tell Lord Tosely of your offer.”

“Tell him, also, to have his forces ready within three quintants. We begin the coup on the fourth.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follow me on Tumblr either my muse RP blog: rebelcourtesan  
> Or on my writing blog: gapspace


	7. Lullaby - Bridget

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bridget helps a Galra patron go to sleep.

He couldn’t sleep. His large body rolled and curled on the side, and on his stomach, and then onto his back. She was pulled along with him as if she were a teddy bear or comfort doll. Her white nightgown tangled in her legs which she kicked to keep from wadding up to her hips. He tucked her beneath him as if she were a pillow and grunted when he wasn’t satisfied with this position either. 

She clung to his fur as he maneuvered into a different position. Sometimes he rested for a bit, trying to ease into sleep and she would almost fall asleep until he moved and disturbed her. She remembered stories of POWs being tortured through sleep deprivation. How the crueler guards would let them almost fall asleep before brutally waking them with pain or loud noises. She was beginning to believe she understood what that was like now. 

Her patron was an insomniac who sought sleep by having the presence of another in his bed. Galra were tactile, accustomed in youth in sharing beds with others until they were sent to sleep alone in their own beds. Their parents wanted children to grow up independent and strong with no emotional attachments of childhood. However, this resulted in some of them growing up with sleep disorders and emotional problems that are swept aside or hidden to maintain a strong, undisturbed appearance for their peers.

He couldn’t request another Galra to sleep with him as that would be perceived as weakness. With an alien courtesan who was not allowed to pass judgment of her betters, there was no harm to his standing. 

Finally, he rose from the bed with a curse, his fur and crest ruffled. Bridget lay stretched on the bed barely able to keep her eyes open, but she didn’t dare sleep until he was asleep himself. He stormed to the wine jug and filled a glass, maybe hoping if he would become drunk enough to pass out and get some sleep that way. 

When was the last time I’ve been so tired? She thought. Then she remembered whenever Connor had rough nights when he was weeks old. He screamed and cried for hours, refusing to sleep after she had done everything from changing him to feeding him and even bathing him in lavender baby soap. Devin helped as much as he could, but he had to sleep to go to work so she took Connor downstairs to soothe him. She couldn’t get him to sleep until . . .

When he turned around, she was reclining on the pillows holding a brush. Her arms were held apart in open invitation. His ears swiveled in slight confusion as he went to her. His body flushed hers as he laid his head on her shoulder. His ear grazed the corner of her mouth and she raised her chin. A hand slopped along the back of his neck, digging into the ruff to the hard skin. 

The brush whispered over his shoulders and back. She rocked his head against hers, her cheek pressed against his temple. His body shiver, the skin twitching beneath the fur as he relaxed, his full weight pressing her against the pillows. HIs breath was hot on her neck and smelled of alcohol which blew across her face as he sighed. 

She hummed low in her throat and then with confidence gave it a melody. The tune took her back to that sleepless night she stayed up with Connor, walking with him, offering him a bottle, checking his temperature in case he was sick, and talking to him, even begging him to go to stop crying and sleep. She’s brought back to the present when his chest vibrates with a rich purr. The hum molded into lyrics she sang in English. It wasn’t forbidden in Zenana, but it was discouraged around patrons. 

A mouth brushed the hollow of her shoulder followed by a soft brush of teeth, and then with a long heaving sigh, the air left him like air from a balloon. His purr softened into a steady thrum and his breathing grew slow and steady. She continued brushing his back and shoulders long after he slept, making the motion as soothing for her as it was for him. 

The song had been played at her wedding. Shortly after she selected it, she tried to change her mind, afraid people would think it was too childish or egotistical of her. Devin assured her it was fine and Eva said to hell with what anyone thought of it. It was her wedding and she could have whatever song she damn well pleased. So at the reception, she and Devin danced to the Disney movie Cinderella’s song, So This is Love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follow me on Tumblr either my muse RP blog: rebelcourtesan  
> Or on my writing blog: gapspace


	8. Ice Planet 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Based on an RP plotting between myself and highcmdr who has a cool Sendak RP blog so please check it out. 
> 
> http://highcmdr.tumblr.com/
> 
> Bridget Walsh and Sendak find themselves lost on an ice planet and forced to rely on each other for survival.

Before she had risen and bundled up, he told her to break camp and be ready to move within a varga. Sometimes they stayed in one spot for several days and others he kept them moving as if they were being chased. He never told her his reasons for staying or going as long as she obeyed and followed. As she kept all their supplies organized during camp stops, it was easy to gather it all up and pack. 

Once the gear was packed, he led the way down the snowy hill, cutting a deep trench in the snow as easily as a snowplow. She followed in his tracks, the broken snow easy to traverse. He set the pace and she struggled to keep up, though she would take a moment to catch her breath before continuing. Sometimes he kept going letting her follow in his tracks, other times he waited for her with a dark look or a sharp word. 

She kept her face covered with a sash across her mouth and nose. Long red hair was coiled around her neck for added warmth and her head covered in a canvas. The sun was too distant to hurt her eyes, but sometimes it reflected brightly from the long white field. 

The sky was clear, there was plenty of food, there’s been no sign of the dangerous predators they’ve encountered on this planet, but for a reason, she couldn’t understand, he was nervous? Could he get nervous? No, nervous wasn’t the word. Alert. She watched him more than once stop and look at the sky with his head tilted. Often, she thought he had seen or heard a drone or a rescue ship, but each time she looked up, she saw nothing. What was he looking for so intently?

She could ask him, she knew, but she didn’t trust that he wouldn’t give her some scathing remark of being silent. So she stayed quiet and hoped that the answer would reveal itself later. 

He was stopping near an outcropping of rock and ice. There was a tension in his bulky frame and in two hops, he scaled the giant rock as if he were a goat mounting a picnic table. She sagged onto the snow, too hot from the strenuous trek to feel the cold and watched him. Again, he was watching the side with his ears stretched out as if listening for a sound only he could hear. He snatched down his mask he wore across his lower face and his blunt nose sniffed the cold breeze. Every hair on his crest and neck bristle and he froze, ears erect and single eye widening. 

He stepped off the top of the rock and alighted on his feet with a loud whump and crunch of the snow. Without glancing at her, he clipped, “Come.”

Then he pushed through the snow at such a speed, he was almost out of sight around a snow bend. Bridget's lungs burned as she hurried after him. Never before had he traveled so quietly. She was having to jog to meet his long strides and only barely at that. The snow as getting deeper and she sank in nearly to her upper thighs. She shoved through it, panting and afraid. What did he know? What was happening?

She fell into the snow so hard her head was buried. She raised her head and blinked the ice from her lashes and saw what he had been sensing since this morning. On the horizon was a flint of deep grey blotting the blue sky. 

“Come!” He snapped at her again.

“Is it a storm?” She asked, pushing herself up to point. 

He didn’t look where she pointed, only growled at her to get up and follow. She struggled after him, fear pumping her adrenaline. How bad was it going to be? It would have to be severe for him to react like this. They had stopped for snowfall and storms before, but he had never been this agitated before. There must have been something in the air that had unsettled him and he just now realized what it was. 

And it may be too late to do anything about it. They had a thermal tent that kept the snow off them, but it would do nothing against a blizzard. They needed a building or a cave to wait out the storm. The land was a white void with the rock formation falling behind. 

They came to a steep slope. He easily slid down, breaking the snow drift into a cloud of dust and flakes. Bridget fell down, rolling head over heels until I hit the bottom. She laid buried in the snow stunned and feeling oddly restful as for the first time since she woke up many hours ago, she was at rest. Then she was hauled out of the snow like a puppy from a bath and plopped on her feet hard enough to make her teeth rattle. 

Her hands were grabbed in seized in one mighty hand and pressed to his belt. He rasped, “Hold on and don’t let go.”

And he took off, towing her along like a sled. At first, she churned her legs, trying to meet his pace, but the snow was deep. He was so fast that she gave up and put all her energy into holding on and keep her face above the snowline. When he paused, she was able to see the greyish blot turn into a growing stain, spreading across the blue sky. The storm was bearing down on them and they had perhaps an hour or two at most to find shelter. 

Her arms and face were numb by the time he stopped. He stripped her cramped hands from his belt and dropped onto his knees in the snow. She was almost too weary to lift her head to see what he was doing. He was digging in the snow at the base of an escarpment. There was no cave she could see, but the snow was deep and he was shoveling with both organic and cybernetic hands. 

An icy wind cut across her bare face and she turned away, hair coming loose from the headscarf. Her arms ached, but she managed to push herself up into a sitting position to better watch him. It was almost comical to see him digging a hole, sticking his whole upper body into it as the snow was thrown behind him. Like a giant purple dog, Clifford the Big Purple Dog. A titter crept from her throat and stifled between her lips. A rumble rolled through the sky, making her bones shake and snow battered her face so hard it stung. The blizzard was here. They had run out of time.

Sendak crawled backward and shoved his gear inside first and then demanded hers. It took several tries, her arms ached as life came back to them, but she managed to push the backpack into his waiting hand. He practically threw it into the hole and reached for her. 

She was dragged across the snow by the arm and then pushed into the hole. The hole was dug at a downward slope and she slid down until she landed against the gear. The light was faint and was quickly blocked out as he entered behind her, using his own cloak to block the whole. The only light was the crimson circle of his optic casting a bloodred glow across her hands and face. He reached around her for the gear. She had to shift the side for him to pull it without taking her along with it. He drew both thermal blankets she carried from the pack and threw them over her. 

“The temperature is going to plummet within the next five dobashes.” 

She wrapped the blankets around herself back against the gear. How would they stay warm in this hole? She wasn’t accustomed to cold weather like this and the fear of freezing to death crept over her like an illness. One of his great upswept ears swiveled towards the blocked opening. Moments later the air screamed and whistled as the blizzard hit. 

She ducked her head under the blankets with hands over her ears. The dreadful noise seemed to penetrate through her skull, clouding any thoughts save for the fear. As he predicted, the temperature dropped as if someone had turned a fan on her. She curled up in the thermal blankets, desperate for any trace of warmth to ease the terrible cold in her bones. 

Sendak was rummage through her gear back and took a thermos of hot tea she had made the day before. It was Galra brand thermos designed to keep liquid food and beverages hot and fresh for days to weeks. He stretched out his long legs to either side of the tunnel he had dug. She noticed that he had to hunch slightly to keep his head from touching the top of the hole. His ears brushed the snow, raining flakes over his crest and fur.

He unscrewed the cap which functioned as a mug and filled it with steaming tea. “Drink.”

She took with both hands. It may serve as a mug for Galra, but for a smaller human it was the size of a bowl. She took a small sip and then took a long pull from it, nearly draining half of the tea. The warmth cascaded and spread through her body, staving back the fear. Even the mug felt good in her cold hands. When she finished the tea, she handed the lid back which he screwed back onto the thermos and put it away. 

“How long will the storm last?” She asked drawing the thermal blankets around herself to trap the warmth of the tea within her. 

“Vargas. Could be quintants,” he said shifting, getting comfortable. “Sleep and stop staring at me as if I can stop the storm by will alone.”

Bridget settled against the gear behind her, exhaustion beginning to claim her. Sendak didn’t seem concerned by the weather and she found it reassurance in that. The tea was lulling her to sleep and the blankets were warm. And for some reason, she couldn't explain and she would forget upon waking, that she found comfort in being watched over by Sendak.


	9. Ice Planet 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another RP ficbit from the RP plot between myself and highcmdr http://highcmdr.tumblr.com/
> 
> Sendak and Bridget find respite in an abandoned Galra base.

They found the Galra base two days after the storm. Travel was strenuous as the blizzard laid more snow across the land and sometimes she had to hold onto his belt as he waded through it. Finally, before the setting of the distant sun on the third day, she noticed his head raised and his ears pricked as he stared into the distance. They almost travel half a mile before she saw what he had seen, a purple beacon pulsing slowly at the edge of the mountains.

Motivation renewed their strength and supplied their energy. The desire to push through to their destination made them almost foolish. Sendak had them breaking camp well before sunset so they were sheltered and warmed from the freezing night. It could mean their deaths if they failed to reach the facility in time.

By the time they reached the facility, the sun was dipping behind the far off mountains and it was nearing dark. She was shivering despite the heavy layers of clothing and the exertion spent to keep up with Sendak. They followed the outer wall seeking a doorway and she began to fear that snow had buried it and they would die of hyperthermia while digging for it.

Sendak found a panel just at the snow’s edge and it took him minutes, minutes too long in Bridget’s estimation as she stood huddled against, using his wide frame to block the cold wind. The door opened with a harsh shifting of snow and kicking through the drift, they went inside. Sendak ducked his head under the top of the doorway and she slid inside behind him as if on a miniature slide.

To her dismay, the inside was almost colder than outside. She saw nothing, but blackness and in a panic, she thrust her hands forward to find some anything and bumped into his back. A crimson disc glowed at her as he turned back to her and went forward. Her hand was on his belt again and she was towed along behind him. With no snow to flow through, she struggled to keep up until they came to a sudden stop. Metal moved and a holo-panel glowed brightly outlining his large hand as it moved across the sigils.

The lights flashed on, blinding her and following suit was the heat. It was glorious. It reached through her clothing and caressed her face through her veil. She unwrapped her face feeling it tingle as the warmth sank into her blood.

“Is anyone coming to meet us?” She asked, pulling the cap from her hair and wringing it out.

“No, this is an abandoned facility. There’s no one here save for powered down sentries,” he said as he ran diagnostic on the facility.

The facility had basic power for lights and heat and other basic functions. However, the command tower which held communications would need to be powered on before becoming operational. After downloading the map of the facility, he took her to the underground barracks which had showers, kitchens, and beds. Despite her exhaustion, she couldn’t turn down taking a hot shower before bed. For the first time in weeks, she could off the layers of clothing without fear of freezing. She wept under the spray of hot water, enjoying the glorious feeling of washing off weeks of sweat and grime. She didn’t dare look at the drain between her feet, not wanting to see the filth that had clung to her skin.

The barracks had come with a clothing and toiletry supply bin. It provided a brush, soap, toothbrush and paste, and deodorant. There was a small size shirt (small for a Galra), that she tied a knot in the sleeve to kee it from slipping off her shoulders. The beds were lined up down a long room and she chose the nearest one and collapse onto it, wallowing in the warm sheets before falling into a dreamless sleep.

It was many hours before she woke up. There was a commlink next to her head on the pillow. She hadn’t seen Sendak since he went off to explore the facility while she took advantage of the shower and beds. She couldn’t be too sure if he actually went to bed or not.

The commlink functioned as a handheld two way radio. Hold the button and speak and then release for the response. She squeezed the switch on the side and said, “Hello?”

“Yes?” came a gruff, almost impatient reply.

“Where are you?”

“In the power station.” There was an angry edge in his tone that spoke of irritation.

Before, she would have been afraid to inquire, but after living and traveling with him for weeks, she was able to discern his moods. “What’s wrong?”

“The quintessence cells have been damaged. I can repair the damage with the right parts . . .if there any in the facility.”

She sat up and crossed her legs. Her hair was a tangled mess from sleeping with it still wet and hung in her eyes in tight curls. “What happened to them?”

“Negligent engineers. May have been in a hurry to leave and took shortcuts to power down the cells.” He spoke in such a manner that I knew he would see to it that the engineers and their CO would pay for the inconvenience once he was back with the fleet. “Do an inventory of the pantries and stay where you are.”

***

If help didn’t come for a hundred years and each day they ate like kings, they still wouldn’t make a dent in the supplies. The food was well preserved in containers that can keep it fresh for centuries. It was easily prepared by adding water or heated. She couldn’t help herself, but stuff herself sick enjoying being able to eat as much as she wanted for the first time in weeks.

She prepared a meal for Sendak and left it covered on the table for him before seeing what the lounge room had to offer. It served as an entertainment area and library. Thankfully, the staff didn’t take everything away when they left. There were plenty of tablets with downloaded audiobooks and video libraries. They couldn’t connect with any offplanet entertainment channels, but there was enough here to keep her occupied in the empty hours until Sendak got the cells working.

For three days, they lived in comfort in facility. Sendak worked on the cells and she took care of the domestic work with cooking the meals and keeping their living area clean. When she wasn’t busy with chores she listened to books and watched dramas on a tablet. She most stayed in barracks sleeping area unless called by Sendak.

With meals provided, he didn’t need her blood to sustain him anymore, and shockingly she actually missed the daily feedings. She could blame Zenana drug trials for making her addictive of stimulants. The marks on her neck had healed to faded splotches which made her look like a survivor of attempted strangulation. She never thought she would see the day when she missed having her neck sucked on by a vampiric alien cat warlord.

***

On the morning of the fourth day, a solid weight on her shoulder awaken her. It wasn’t the shake to wake someone up, but a gentle touch for physical contact. Warm air blew across her ear and neck and she sensed the space behind her being filled by another’s presence. Her eyes opened, but she saw nothing save for the faint glow of the tablet in sleep mode. Everything else was darkness.

She shifted to roll on her back, but the hand on her shoulder became weighted, stopping her from moving. Her hair was moved, baring her neck and she squirmed in anticipation. She thought he had no need for blood when food was plentiful, but she wasn’t going to complain too much. Hot moisture closed over artery in her neck and then came the short sudden sting of skin being punctured. Within seconds, the pain disappeared and euphoria spread through her system.

Her mouth open expelling a sigh. The rhythmic pull on her neck made her toes curled and hands clench the sheets. Out in the tundra, she felt warmest when he fed from her. The glow seemed to pour from his mouth and into her through the wounds. The intimacy of this exchange was what she had missed, what she had craved. She had failed to nurse her own son. Her milk had dried due to stress and it ended that wonderful bonding far too soon. This was different, not maternal nurturing, but something that went beyond that into a territory that was frightening.

The pulls stopped to be replaced with gentle licks, gathering whatever drops failed to be drawn down his throat. A soft moan left her lips as electricity trailed down her shoulder and chest. Small flutters of excitement crawled through her lower stomach. She almost sobbed when he stopped. Movement shifted behind her as he rose, a heavy hand lightly touching her head in a farewell. She listened to his footfalls drift further and further away and a wet tear rolled down her cheek, only to be dismissed once she burrow her face into the pillow to muffle any call she might make for him to stay with her, to take more from her.

Sleep claimed her for nearly an hour. Hungry, she went to the kitchen and ate some leftovers from the previous meal and cleaned up. From far down the hall, she could hear faint movement of Sendak in a supply storeroom he had converted into a workshop. A warm bubbles rose in her stomach at the memory of his feeding earlier and on a whim she went into the all to see him.

She entered the hall just in time see his broad shape leave the workshop and disappear around a nearby corner. He moved with a directness that said he was in a hurry to accomplish a task and her dallying around him wouldn’t be welcomed. So she stayed back, wistful and a bit lost.

The commlink chirruped back in the kitchen and she hurried to scoop it from where she had left it on the counter. “Yes?”

His voice came across gruff and distant. “There’s a tool belt with a laser cutter. Bring it to me.”

“In the workshop?”

“Yes,” he said impatiently.

His attitude piqued her and dourly she replied, “Why don’t you come back and get it yourself? You just left the workshop.”

There was a long pause during which she believed he was getting angry, but instead of a roar, he said calmly, “When?”

“Just now.”

“Now?”

“I saw you walk out of the workshop less than a minute ago.”

There was another pause, shorter this time. “I’m in the power station. I’ve been in the power station for the last three vargas.”

Her face turned pale and her lips began to tremble. “But I saw you . . .”

“That wasn’t me.”

“Hurry!” She fled to hide in the sleeping quarters.

***

The thief had taken several components and tools. When Bridget looked, she discovered several missing containers of rations had been taken from the back of the pantry. She touched the side of her neck where it had once pulsed with a pleasant pang, now just stung like the bite it was.

Over and over, Sendak demanded details of what had happened and what did the culprit looking like. He stalked back and forth like an angry lion wanting something to rip apart. She sat cross legged on the bed and rubbed the side of her neck fearful and morose.

“I told you he looked like you.”

“You said you didn’t see him!” he groused at her.

“I saw enough of him to think he was you!” She rejoined. “He was as tall as you and had ears like yours and . . . he took blood.” The bite had developed fresh scabs which she had put medicine on earlier.

Her mistaking the stranger for him infuriated him more than the stolen supplies and components. His fur stood out thick on his neck and his crest seemed to grow several inches. “I am not the only sub-race of Galra to drink blood.”

It had to be a Galra deserter who been living in the facility for a long time and knew the inside and outside of the base well. How else could he elude a determined and enraged Sendak for hours on end and came and gone unnoticed for days. He either became careless or confident when he fed from Bridget and pilfered from Sendak’s workshop.

Bridget could scarcely see how she can sleep without Sendak nearby to keep watch. Or how she can stand to be by herself again. She saw her days of following Sendak around as she did out in the snow. Every shadow was now someone creeping toward her. Any unexplained sound had nefarious sources and she kept looking over her should for fear of something sneaking up behind her.


	10. Ice Planet 3

_ He’s angry with me.   _

He had said another word to her since he gave her the gun.  She could hear him moving in the halls and in the next rooms, likely hunting for signs for her strange visitor.  The bite mark on her neck had bloomed into dark bruises. She pressed a cold wet cloth over it to ease the sting and hoping it wouldn’t hurt to move her head in the morning.

She padded to the kitchen to put away the leftovers of the meager meal she made.  There was little appetite after being molested (or fed) by a complete stranger.

_ He could have slit my throat and I wouldn’t notice until it was too late. _

Stricken by uncleanliness, she hurried to the showers, mindful to take the gun with her.  She showered with the gun away from the water, but within easy reach, if she should be accosted.  Feeling better, she brushed out the tangles and tied her hair unruly hair in a long ponytail. Leaving the showers, she realized the sounds of whatever Sendak was doing in the halls had ceased.  She paused, listening hard and could only hear the pounding of her heart.

She shrieked when a footstep echoed behind her.  Hands fumbled for the gun and they were caught in a large paw of a hand.  Sendak was looming over her, his countenance prickled with annoyance. “I did not give you a gun to shoot at shadows.”

“What if he comes back?” .  

“He won’t come back so soon.  He already has what he wants.”  Was her imagination or did his optical lens flare at her.  “And he now knows we’re aware of his presence. He’ll keep his distance until he’s willing to take the risk again.”

If it was possible to reassure and frighten her at the same time, Sendak accomplished it.  “When is help coming?”

“Not for a while.  The power cells were intentionally damaged and he’ll undo whatever repairs I make.”

“So what now?”

“We rest.”

“But what if . . .?”

“He won’t come back so soon.”  

What happens when later comes?  A telltale slant of an ear told her she was testing his patience.  She swallowed back more questions and considered his logic sound. The stranger didn’t have a reason to come back so soon and she was getting tired.  

“Go rest while you can.  There’s a lot to do tomorrow.”

His words did little to reassure her.  She cleaned the dining area became unnerved.  She realized that he had come in here while she was in the other room busy with some chore or sleeping.  How many times had she seen something out of place or a portion of a meal missing and assumed it was Sendak.  How many times had she heard heavy footsteps down the hall and assumed it was the Commander?

No, she would not rest well, not at all until the stranger was caught or they had left this place.  She knew too well how quickly contentment could turn to terror. That good things do not remain static, but can slip away or stolen.  She had learned this lesson well before coming to Zenana and had let her guard slip on this planet. Receiving convenience after going for so long without it had lulled her into a false sense of security and she was a fool for letting it happened.  

She went to bed knowing sleep wouldn't come to her.  Even sleeping with the gun beneath her pillow gave little comfort.  The bright screen of the tablet served as a nightlight. The light made her imagine every movement of shadow ominous and threatening.  Perhaps she could jury rig cans and wire across the door to serve as an alarm, she would sleep better.

A shadow passed across the floor where she was staring.  Sitting up, her hand scrambled for the gun, but she saw the familiar arches of large ears and she calmed, slightly.  A disc of crimson glowed, lighting his harsh features with unreadable emotion. He was coming closer.

Her hand slid away from the gun beneath her pillow, feeling almost sheepish.  She didn’t speak as his broad frame lowered next to the bed, a heavy hand laying across her shoulders.  It was a gently caresses and any observer would assume he was comforting her, but that wasn’t the case, she knew.  He wanted to feed.

But so soon?  In the tundra he allowed her to rest a day before continuing their journey.  One side of her neck was still sore from the stranger’s feeding and imagining the other side hurting made her hesitate.  He was warm, so warm, even on the coldest night out there, being around him warmed her even as he drew blood from her veins.  Her fingers sank into the thick fur on his forearm, her fingertips brushing the skin beneath the pelt.

The hand at her back slid up to cup the back of her head and in a practiced reflex, she rolled her head into his open palm.  Her head bent backward, exposing her neck and she felt his hot breath tickle the edge of her jaw.

Her lips parted to speak, to tell him to wait, but suddenly, like a striking snake, he seized her throat.  Any shriek was cut off as teeth sank into her arteries, over the stranger’s bite. Deep, deep, deeper than he usually bit to draw blood.  Tears blurred her vision and rolled down her cheeks as her mouth gaped in horror. Pleasure rolled through her like polluted water. Unbidden ecstasy swarm her senses while the terror spread like sparks of fireworks.  

He’s going to kill me.  He’s going to drain me dry as punishment for allowing myself to be bitten by another.

A hand fumbled through the fur at his neck and pulled hard, pulling some hairs from the roots.  He grumbled against her flesh but relinquished, blood staining his mouth and teeth. She panted, chest rising and fall with each gasp as she struggled to regain her breath.  Blood trickled down her neck and stained the shirt and blanket.

Her mouth opened in a silent sob, too afraid to shout or get away.  He lowered his head, not to take another bite, but to put his brow to hers.  It was a gentle touch, soothing and reassuring her. Then he purred for her. Waves of warmth cascaded through her body.  She laid a hand on the chest, feeling it thrumming beneath the palm, across her fingertips.

Once she was relaxed, he resumed feeding, this time biting the other side of her neck.  She moaned, arching her back, fingers sinking into the scruff of his chest. She would be very weak in the morning and quite sore, but right now, it was worth it.

 

***

 

She was still warm with afterglow when she awoke.  He was curled on his side with her tucked against his torso.  A large hand caressed her back. She burrowed her face into his chest, enjoying the tickle of fur across her cheeks and eyes.  He smelled good with the lingering scent of soap in his fur. It was a telltale sign he had bathed recently, and maybe before he came to her?

“You didn’t have to bite so hard,” she muttered, feeling it had to be said.

“I wanted you to know the feel of my teeth so next time you’ll realize it’s not me.”

She groaned.  “I’m never going to live that down, am I?”  In the safety of his presence, it now all seemed silly of her not to realize.  “I honestly thought he was you.”

There was a sound in his throat which was a growl and snort.  For a second, she felt nails prick her skin, not as a threat, but as a chastisement.  “Shall I make another example?”

She considered it but declined.  “I need the sleep. I get the feeling we’ll be busy tomorrow.”

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another Ice Planet bit about the RP between @highcmdr and myself (@rebelcourtesan).


End file.
